The Streets of Harlem

Apparently this has been making the rounds and has several antecedents, for example Jesse Jackson used some of the language at Rosa Parks' funeral.  One of my colleagues told me today that it showed up several weeks ago as a text message on his cell.

But the man in the middle of this interview delivers the lines with perfect pitch and rythym.  Let me know what you think.  (Click on the title of this post.)

I am Not a Poet

Frederick Douglass is quoted by Henry Louis Gates, Jr.  as saying that times like the last two days require poetry not prose.  I am not a poet, but familiar only with prose.  Therefore I share a link for your reflection on history.

One Historical Night

Funny.  In the last eight years almost everything I have given my life to has been reversed.

Now, with one historical night, hope returns.

The Fifty Chevy

It is now four years later. I have written about our return from the Philippines after about four years. There are other stories to be told about the trip back by freighter with stops in Hong Kong, Yokohama and Tokyo, but those are for another time.

My grandfather, Grandpa Dave, was superintendent of 1100 Union Street in San Francisco, so he had great contacts and access to some classy Cadillacs and Lincolns for tooling around town.

We spent a month in San Francisco. My grandmother cooked food unavailable in the Philippines. It was here that I got my first taste of artichokes and my first and last taste of beef heart. After four years of lean, I experienced plenty, first on the ship, then in the basement of 1100 Union.

The family planned to drive across country again, this time from West to East, stopping to see sights along the way. We would take the "southern route" because it would be late spring and we were not equipped to weather a spring snow storm in one of the passes of the Rockies.

First problem, find a car. As I mentioned previously this would be the first car Mom and Dad would buy. The car had to be reliable enough to get us across country and have room enough for five, since the family had grown to include a third brother. Paul was born in Manila and was less than five months old when we boarded ship for our return to the states.

With the help of Grandpa Dave's contacts, Dad found a used green 50 Chevrolet with a truck engine and transmission and an outline on the door where a California State Seal had been. The car proved to be a find, because it lasted the family for several years. I learned to drive in it.

Second problem, make enough room for all our earthly belongings. Take that literally because all that my Mom and Dad owned were with them. Dishes and silverware had been stored in barrels in Manila and would eventually be given away as we did not return. Even as I write this it seems strange that all of our material possessions would fit in that car. The trunk held a fair amount, but the back seat had to hold three boys. So Dad built a roof rack/box out of 3/4 inch plywood. My Dad was a cabinet maker, among other things, so this was an elegant box that could probably withstand blowing off the car at 50 mph. He found someone who could sew a canvas cover for the box. I have no idea where that car roof box is today, but I would not be surprised to find it in some one's garage still usable. It probably made our gas mileage worse, but it got our belongings across country with us.

Third problem, make a bed for the infant Paul. Dad took some of that plywood and crafted it into a bed for the driver's side back seat. He covered that bed with foam rubber and a sheet. Paul slept peacefully in that bed for much of the trip, even though middle brother Len was sitting right beside him. Remember that there were no seat belts in those days, so a bed in a car was a convenience for all.

So, in a green 50 Chevy we set out across country; family of five including an infant. I looked forward to seeing the rest of my family and whatever wonders we had time to include.